I Try To Keep My Heartbeat

[thepnutgallery]

Woke up at 4. WTF. Tried to go back to sleep, but nothing doing. Hopped online, got hit up by some tweeker out in east county. He was very sweet, though, and we're going to try to hook up on Thursday. It was 6, which is about time for me to get up anyway, so I jerked off, even though I wasn't really randy, and laid down. Denise, the Regional Manager who hired me, is going to be down from LA for a few days. Meh - I'mma keep doin mah thang. I'd forgotten to pay my credit card all weekend long, and it was due today, so I did that on my lunch break instead of going to the gym. I got an email when I got back from Ticketmaster that Emeli Sande's concert had been canceled. FUCK.

Tim texted, suggesting that our new tag lines should be "Greetings El Stalkor; Hola La Trampa." This was an attempt to make light of the situation; a peace offering. Even though "El Stalko" would have worked just as well, and I appreciate the thought, I didn't respond. If I allowed this to not be rock bottom, I don't think I'd ever reach it, and if I talk to him, if I get "just a little Tim," I'll start tapping the vein. I didn't hear from him for the rest of the day.

There was a thread on the PPK about mental health pet peeves, but was really about people who 1) use clinically diagnosed conditions as exaggerations of normal conditions and 2) aren't as disabled as them using them. Most, if not all, mental health conditions are a spectrum, and some words, like anxiety, can refer to either a clinical diagnosis that impairs life functioning, or just an emotion.

I was meeting up with Lee from the cruise after work. I almost canceled, because I didn't want to be around anyone, but that wasn't his problem. We decided to meet at his place - he lives in Mission Hills, so his place is presumably nicer than my messy apartment. His place is nicer, but much harder to find, since you have to take a road labeled "PRIVATE WAY" to get there, and my GPS wasn't working. We flip fucked for a couple hours. On the cruise, he'd wanted me to cum for him, and didn't seem to care when I told him it depresses me, so I just faked it. He came, we laid there togther. He kept dozing, and I wondered if he wasn't on G or something. Eventually, he was hungrier than he was tired, so we went to Hillcrest Brewing Company. I could've sworn that when I was there for Pride, they'd had a fairly diverse menu, but it was just thin-crust pizza and hot wings tonight. Got a cheeseless pizza, ate a couple slices, packed up the rest.

I saw a post about Martini's when I got home. Damn, I'd been hoping to go to that.